Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. “You!” said Ann Veronica. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. He was aware of trying to scream because he was paralyzed and his legs would not move. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. “That is very nice of you,” she said.
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